Need's Matchmaker Service
by Shadowfax
Summary: The title is kinda selfexplanatory... A small, um, voyeuristic moment involving Firesong and An'desha.


2/23/05: Updated the formating. Unfortunately, that madeFFN decide that I can't use any kind of punctuation right before a colon besides a period... Grr.

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My stuff usually takes a long time to write, and is heavily proofread and edited (and still manages to have typos), but this just kinda hit me after I finished reading WofFury and wanted to read something like this but was unable to find anything like it anywhere on this site. So, it's spontaneous. Gasp! The obsessive perfectionist in me is having a heart attack… Everything belongs to HRH Queen Misty, except the back corner of my mind that wants to jump Darkwind, drag him into a back room, and… Ahem. Anyway…… on with the story. 

**_"Need's Matchmaker Service" _**

You don't need magic to Heal. Just words. And kindness, and care. - _Winds of Fury  
_

The air in the room was almost orange with warmth as she looked in at the two people within. She was crouched on the edge of the roof, clinging to the ornamental stonework which served to obscure the outline of her body from watching eyes, studying the pair with her own glowing eyes.

The one was standing by the window looking out. The firelight cast bright shadows on his long, white hair and threw dark ones over his thoughtful features. He was definitely beautiful, as she remembered overhearing someone, Elspeth probably, mentioning. Good thing neither he nor her was going to regret the fact that the other wasn't particularly interested in pursuing any kind of intimate relationship. He was also thinking about _some_thing very deeply; he barely noticed when a pale shape hopped onto his shoulder to take a look around before launching itself out through the window and into the night. The firebird gave a soft call of pleasure as it tumbled and dived in the dark sky. She watched it, wondering if it knew she was there, or if it knew what she was doing. Finally taking notice of the bird, the man leaned on the windowsill as he watched its antics.

A sound behind him made him turn. He, and she following his gaze, looked at the one whose movement had caused the quiet rustling of cloth that her own ears had only barely caught the echo of. She took a moment to fix her eyes on the other, taking in his well built frame but more so his hesitant, _human_ features framed by golden-brown hair. He came forward, so tentatively that she almost wanted to kick him but managed to restrain herself, and said something to the other man. She missed it, the blood in her ears throbbing with the effort of restraining herself from doing something that would force the pair into each others arms. _They have to do it on their own_, she reminded herself, but she had never wanted so badly to disregard her own advice. _This is cursed hard work_, she thought.

The first man she had observed stepped to one side of the window and welcomed the newcomer to come join the view. The newcomer, however, still hesitated a moment before joining the first man in leaning over the sill to watch the firebird. His movements were all cautious, as if he was afraid he might offend; as if he couldn't quite believe just yet that he hadn't been strung up, drawn and quartered, or otherwise punished and rejected. The strange thing, she noted, was how the first man also became hesitant now that the other had joined him. As if he wasn't quite sure either as to how they should interact with each other. But they started to relax, and she thought she could hear soft laughter echoing up toward her as the bird pulled some particularly insane aerial aerobatic stunt. And as she looked down, breath bated, the silvered head leaned toward the golden-brown one, as if to whisper something conspiratorially in his ear, but met with surprise as the golden head turned toward him to say something as well. There they were, their faces inches from each other, and she was sure she was going to scream if they screwed this one up. They sat there looking at each other for quite some time. _Goddess! Kiss him already,_ she hissed to herself, but maybe someone else heard her, because right then there was a soft shimmer as light ran down the length of long white hair as one head leaned in closer to the other and snatched a kiss.

He drew back softly, his eyes on the other waiting for a reaction. But the eyes framed by soft brown hair were closed, and even from the distance she was at her cat-like eyes could see a shade of worry creep over the first man's face. He said something softly, but before he could do anything else those green eyes opened, and the man leaned forward and returned the gesture. Eyes widened in surprise and joy, then narrowed in bliss, and what began as a soft exploration progressed into an urgent declaration of desires that had been, until now, without a voice.

As she turned her attention away and toward climbing down from her perch unobserved, a surge of elation went threw her. _Well. About time._ It didn't take her long to make the climb, and with one final back flip down to the ground she looked up to see the cursed firebird sitting near her preening its feathers and giving her the most supercilious look. She snarled at it, but then Need gave over control of the body back to its rightful owner and Nyara burst out laughing at the creature which completely ruined the effect.

_:Thank you kitten.:_ Need pretended to ignore the bird. _:I was getting worried about them.:_

Nyara giggled. "What for? Your matchmaking skills are second to none!"

_:You are getting quite a lip on you kitten:_ the blade warned.

"I thought you said having an attitude was preferable to letting my actions be dictated," the young woman smirked, as she stroked the firebird and whispered to it. It trilled softly at her, and then winged up to check on its bondmate before it retired for the evening, its work done. "I wonder what they'd think if they knew how many people were involved in this conspiracy," she half thought, half whispered to herself, as she looked up at the window.

_:Unfortunately they would probably not be as thankful as they ought to be.: _Need's mind-voice was laced with irony. _:And after I went to all the trouble to drop them all those hints. Well, I'm glad to see they've figured it out.:_

Nyara snorted as she made her way through the dark to her and Skif's room. "And you are an expert in all matters of the heart," but her words were only half in jest now, because she remembered who had helped her build her own heart. "You could have had a little faith in them."

_:Even an old woman like me can get worried, especially about you younglings:_ Need confessed. _:Firesong hasn't been saying anything, so I had to assume that there wasn't anything happening. He isn't known for his discretion.:_

"I think you have underestimated him."

_:No, just misjudged his capacity for denying himself and his dedication to his job, though my main worry _was_ that he would immerse himself so completely in the role of Healer that he would forget some of the best, and most simple, methods of Healing. And there is only so much prodding I can do before it's all up to them…:_

"I think Elspeth is right." At the questioning feeling from Need, Nyara continued with a grin as she reached her own door. "You should give up your job and become a Matchmaker."

_:Dear child:_ came the humor filled response. _:What makes you think I haven't: _Nyara burst out laughing, though she tried to muffle the sound before it echoed down the quiet hall, lest she wake someone. She could hear someone stirring behind the door, the knob of which her hand lay upon, and she turned it, tumbling herself into the room in a fit of suppressed laughter that shook her whole body. She hardly needed the sword's encouragement as Need thought at her affectionately, _:Now drop me off and get in there to that fine young man of yours and let an old woman have some peace.:_

"Goodnight," Nyara whispered, as she let the sword slip down next to the bed, habit making her leave it in a place where she could reach it easily if she needed it, and slid herself into the bed where Skif greeted her with a sleepy murmur and she smiled as she curled up next to him, his fingers twining with hers when she took his hand.


End file.
